


Familiar

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At an inn at the end of the world, Jason sees several surprisingly familiar faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roserelease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roserelease/gifts).



> roserelease asked: I’d like to see a fic where Jason, Steph, and Carrie bond over chillidogs, milkshakes, and their mutual hardships of being Robin. Shippy or non-shippy, I’d be happy with either. :)
> 
> I did some playing around with your prompt so this is heavy on the Sandman references and it has some other hints of creepy Robin + Sandman related stuff. See if you can see what was (at the time of first publication) some serious foreshadowing!

Jason is lost. He’s confused. He’s cold. And he’s seriously considering asking Bruce to help him make a uniform  _with_ pants whenever he gets back to Gotham City.

 _If_  he gets back to Gotham City.

Jason trudges along through the snow with his cape wrapped snugly around his bare legs because he knows better than to stop walking even for a second. It’s slow going as cold bites into his skin and his vision blurs from the snowflakes spinning around his head, but Jason has learned from the best. He knows that stopping to sit down in the middle of a snowstorm might be the last thing that he ever does—

And then over the rise of a snowy hill, a building appears to Jason through the snow and wind. It’s like nothing Jason has ever seen in his short life. The building is old, older than any building that Bruce has taken Jason in their quest for justice, and just  _looking_  at the building makes Jason’s knees start to creak as he makes his way towards it.

The closer that the young Robin gets to the building with its glowing golden lights, the warmer he seems to feel. The life seems to return to his limbs and they stop feeling as heavy as they did before. Jason finds himself with the energy to run and he does, green pixie boots leaving holes behind in the pristine white snow that are filled in short order.

There’s a sign on top of the door, but it’s flapping too hard in the wind for Jason to read. And besides, it’s too cold outside for Jason to think of anything aside from getting out of the cold.  Figuring out where he is and how to get that information to Bruce is going to have to wait until Jason isn’t about to become a frozen block of ice and body armor.

With his teeth chattering and his fingers feeling as though they’re ready to drop, Jason lifts one hand and pounds hard on the door. He knocks until he feels as though his fist is about to shatter from the freezing temperature and his mouth has dried out. Tears burn in the corners of Jason’s eyes, but he refuses to let his fear stop him from knocking.

It feels like an eternity has passed, but finally the door to the building opens with a creaking whine that echoes loudly above the storm outside. There’s a pale brown face peering out at Jason from underneath a heavy hood and as Jason stands torn between gaping and shivering until his bones knock together loud enough to be heard on their own, the figure gestures for Jason to come in.

Jason doesn’t stop to think. He doesn’t stop to wonder what kind of building would be open for visitors out in the middle of nowhere. He doesn’t stop to think about the circumstances that see him so far away from Gotham City with nothing but his cape and his costume.

It’s cold outside and Jason welcomes any chance to get in out of the storm.  

*

The building is a bar, Jason realizes once he’s further inside with the hooded figure guiding him through a crowded room with dozens of patrons sitting round small tables and telling stories. The smell of alcohol and familiar bar foods comes rising up to his nostrils.

Jason’s mouth waters.

He casts a longing look at a platter of bread and meats as it passes by and then remembers with a sad sigh his empty pockets.

And then he looks at his host.

In the brighter light coming from flickering lamps, the hood that the figure is wearing looks green. It’s a familiar shade of green, similar enough to the green of Jason’s boots and scaled shorts that Jason finds himself wondering if Bruce would ever let him have a hood of his own for his suit.

The hooded figure leads Jason over to a shadowy table next to a merrily roaring fireplace. Three of the four places at the table are already taken, but before Jason can open his mouth to ask if he can sit down, he’s being pushed down into the seat nearest the fire.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jason stammers when he’s caught his breath and he starts to feel the warmth of the fire leeching into his limbs. “I’m not usually this rude—”

Above their heads, a lamp suddenly comes on and reveals the people sitting around the table.

Three young women with vastly differing hair colors and features that barely look like they’re older than he is are sitting around the rough wooden table with food and drink between them and smiles on their faces.

Jason can’t explain it, but as he sits there and stares at them, he’s struck by the hard-to-ignore feeling that he knows them from somewhere. The one and only thing that they all have in common with each other is the only thing that they have in common with him: the bright yellow R-shaped emblem that Jason has only seen on one other person before him.

They’re Robins, Jason realizes after a moment, but certainly not any Robins that he’s ever met.

“You’re Jason Todd aren’t you?” The young woman to Jason’s right —a masked blonde with a headband holding back her hair from her face— beams at Jason as though he’s something special. “You look exactly like your pictures!”

The lenses of her mask go up and Jason finds himself staring into big blue eyes that twinkle at him. The look in those eyes seems somewhat familiar, but Jason can’t place them.

“I’m Stephanie,” she says, holding out a hand for Jason to shake and then laughing softly, sheepishly when he only eyes her fingers warily. “I’m sorry; I really need to stop expecting people to know who I am.”

He narrows his eyes at Stephanie’s smiling face instead of asking her what she means.

“Who are you all?” he asks, fingers sliding down to his belt where he thinks he has one last weapon secreted. He glances around the table and frowns. Neither one of the other women seems surprised to hear their friend say Jason’s name aloud.

They even look at him with a little bit of awe on their faces.

“How do you know my name? How do you all know who I am?”

The dark-haired female Robin jabs one thumb at the red-haired woman making her way through a plate of food.

“I’m Helena and Carrie’s the one who got me up to speed,” she says as her companion puts down her fork. “You’re apparently something of a big deal in her world.”

Stephanie perks up —something that Jason didn’t think was even possible— and drums her fingers over the top of the table. “Mine too,” she confesses,

“Boy, you should hear the way that Bruce talks about you sometimes. When he thinks no one’s around to hear, that is. And he takes such good care of your case—”

The other two Robins cut her off and give Stephanie such a scathing glare that Jason imagines that he can feel the burn on his own skin.

“Oops,” she says with an embarrassed sounding giggle trailing her sentence as a blush turns her face bright red. “I’ve said too much haven’t I.”

“You think?” The redhead —Carrie— drawls before she reaches for something that looks like a chocolate milkshake in a beer mug and lifts it to her mouth. The smell of it makes Jason’s mouth water and then before the though finishes entering his mind, the hooded figure from earlier shows up with a milkshake for Jason.

“I don’t have any money,” he tries to say, but the dark-haired Robin speaks up again.

“Don’t worry about it, Jason,” she says in a firm voice, “We’ve been here for hours, and no one’s even asked us for ID. I don’t think this is a place that cares about money.”

Jason frowns again. “Where are we? What kind of place is this?”

Carrie sets her milkshake down with a clatter of glass and wood. She’s the only one at the table not wearing a mask, but when Jason peers closely at her sharply-defined features, he can just barely pick out the scant traces of adhesive on her cheekbones.

“Near as I can tell,” she says in a low tone that has Jason straining to hear, “We’re at a bar at the end of the world.”

The end of the world? Jason frowns and shakes his head. “You can’t be serious,” he breathes, “But I need to go home? I have to go home!” He crosses his arms underneath his cape and tries not to panic. “Bruce is going to be worried if I don’t come home! I-I need to go home!”

The three Robins around Jason share a sad look. Stephanie is the one that actually reaches out to him. She clasps his shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip and holds his gaze as the storm reaches new heights outside.

“We can’t leave yet,” she says, “The storm is still going on outside. We’re stuck here until it breaks.”

Jason jerks away from Stephanie’s grip and scowls at her. “Then what are we going to do until then?”

Helena shrugs and then reaches up to play with the bright yellow clasp at her throat. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “We could always tell stories about Bruce.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jason is quick to respond, “you want us to tell stories?”

“Do you have a better idea?”


End file.
